We're All Bored Here
by Rhianwen
Summary: "Who the heck IS that girl? God, she's annoying..." Another student starts attending Lawndale High during the events of 'Esteemers,' and Daria and Jane are dismayed to find that she intends to be their friend with or without their agreement.
1. Esteemsters, First Bit

We're All Bored Here,  
  
also  
  
I Dreamt I Was a Moron...  
  
  
  
Summary: A new student begins attending Lawndale High not long after Daria and Quinn. She is not witty, she is not intelligent, she is not particularly pretty, she has no special gifts, and no tragic past. In fact, there is absolutely nothing worth mentioning about her. So...uh...read on, okay? :o)  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in here except for Shani. And let's face it, who wants her?  
  
  
  
Notes: Okay, I'm not entirely sure what the point of this is. I think I just wanted to write an Anti-Sue 'fic, but it's kind of turned anime-ish. If there's any interest in this, I'll continue it to make an altered version of the first season. If not, well, I apologize to any of you who wasted your time reading it. :o)  
  
One more thing: I have used the actual transcript of the episode to a point, but I didn't especially want to confine myself to it throughout the entire story. Anyway, that is why I have completely made up new dialogue for everything after Daria's first self-esteem class.  
  
Um...anyway, please leave a review to tell me what you thought of this. Oh, and as I am very Stacy-esque about criticism, please try not to leave unnecessarily harsh flames. Tell me on no uncertain terms what you didn't like about the writing, sure, but don't extend that and tell me that I am of no value as a person because my story 'fukin sux.' That will be utterly disregarded...after I've run from the room with my head buried in my hands, sobbing, of course. :o)  
  
And now, oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon with the show!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There was once a girl unlike any other. That's because, if you think about it, no two people are completely alike. Thus, of course the girl was unlike any other. But, that isn't quite what I meant.  
  
This girl was truly an extraordinary creature, with a beauty unmatched by anything seen or heard of before. Her figure was the picture of grace and loveliness, her eyes shone like the brightest stars of the heavens, her complexion smooth and flawless as Devonshire cream. It was a beauty that any man would long to possess. Perhaps a certain laid-back, spiky-haired guitarist with whom some of us may be acquainted. Beauty, however, was not the girl's only asset (and a nice asset it was!). In addition, she was enormously clever, but not quite as clever as whatever man she happened to be with at the time. For, in her infinite wisdom, she knew that men like this in a woman. Her amazingly overblown intellect helped her greatly in her mastery of every form of artistic endeavour that existed as well. Her skill in painting, sculpting, music, writing, and even drama surpassed all, making her easily the most interesting and enlightened being in existence. Not only this, but she had early mastered all the secrets of ballet, and her propensity for wrapping her legs around her head also had the potential to win her the affection of any male she desired. Her name was Mary Sue, and all in all, she was quite a dish.  
  
One lovely afternoon late in September, this stunningly lovely, immensely artistic girl wandered into a perfectly typical high school, in the perfectly typical town of Lawndale, on a perfectly typical day. Pausing in the doorway for a moment to give every male being drifting about the hallway the proper chance to gasp in amazement over her beauty, she heard a faint rumbling sound behind her. 'Oh, my,' she thought, 'this is rather unusual.' She turned, just in time to be squished beyond recognition as a human being behind the double doors of the school. 'This shouldn't be,' were her last thoughts before she was obliterated.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I get to hold the door for Quinn today!" Jeffy announced, glaring darkly at the blond boy and the dark-haired boy as he slammed the door open. As set as he was on his task of guarding said door from his two rivals, he utterly missed the rather disgusting noise of one young woman being compressed into a puddle.  
  
"No way!" Joey hastened to cut in. "You held it last week."  
  
"Uh-uh!" Jamie declared articulately. "YOU held it last week. That means it's my turn this week!"  
  
"Guys!" the lovely young redheaded woman protested, a small smile indicating that her protests weren't QUITE as whole-hearted as they might have been. "Don't fight! You can ALL hold the door for me! And anyway, I didn't even LIVE here last week!"  
  
A collective cheer rose up from the three young men, who apparently hadn't even heard the second part of this statement, or who had all already blocked from their memories a time when the Goddess Quinn did not live in Lawndale, as they each scrambled for a free section of door to lean against until their goddess was safely through.  
  
  
  
  
  
As all this was happening, another girl of lesser grace and beauty and perfection than our dear departed Mary Sue (for, of course, the best Mary Sues are the dead ones), or even than the Goddess Quinn, made her way up the front sidewalk of the school. Upon seeing the door standing open, held by a young man, she sped up slightly, thinking that the gesture was for her benefit.  
  
"Aw, thank-" she began to gush, but was cut off as the door slammed directly in her face, sending her keeling backward onto the pavement.  
  
Then, her eyes filling with tears, she picked up her duck-shaped backpack, cuddled it close, and whimpered,  
  
"Ow... I don't think they like us, Mr. Perkins."  
  
"Hey, hey, don't get so down on yourself!" the duck pleaded in her mind. "Yer a great kid, Shani! I'm sure you'll make tons of friends in no time! Or maybe just two really, really special, creative, deep, super-smart friends with a firm grip on reality, who are, in fact, the only two people in the school worth associating with anyway!"  
  
Thus reassured by her backpack, Shani bounced to her feet with a cheer of "Yaay!" that, to the other students who hadn't heard her exchange with Mr. Perkins, seemed remarkably oddly timed.  
  
But Shani, being...an interesting lass, paid no mind to the odd glances she was receiving, and bolted enthusiastically into the school in a series of extremely badly-executed ballet leaps.  
  
However, just as she cleared the doorway, the door slammed shut, effectively pinning her in place by catching the mass of long red curls streaming out behind her.  
  
"ACK!" she shrieked as a sensation of thousands of fiery needles jabbing ruthlessly into her scalp filled her eyes once again with tears. She came to a dead halt, giving her head an experimental pull. No good. It still hurt. Hmm...would it work now? No, she decided after another quick tug, it wouldn't work now.  
  
And so there Shani stood in the lobby of Lawndale High, her hair caught in the door, and with no idea how to remedy this. Had this been a completely different story, it is likely that someone, most likely a good-looking male someone, coincidentally the author's favourite good-looking male someone, overwhelmed by Shani's beauty and differentness, would have stopped to free her from her trap, and proceeded to fall irrevocably in love with her.  
  
However, this is not that sort of story, as we have already killed off the only character that could instantly win any male's heart with her beauty and her propensity for body contortionism. She is, if you will recall, a puddle of goo behind the door. Yaay! Continuity!  
  
As such, there was little else for young Shani to do, aside from stay where she was and watch the pageant of high school life pass her by from her vantage point.  
  
It is likely that Shani should have remained there from morn 'till night, and likely through the morn and night again, had a kindly middle-aged lady known as Mrs. Manson not happened past and noticed her plight. Or noticed something else about her.  
  
"Oh, goodness!" she exclaimed breathlessly, rushing over to the young redhead. "You're a new student, aren't you?"  
  
"Y-yeah," Shani sniffled, wiping her eyes with Mr. Perkins.  
  
"Well, come quickly!"  
  
"Um..."  
  
Mrs. Manson rushed on, unheeding.  
  
"We have a lot to do!"  
  
"Er..."  
  
"We'll start with a short psychological exam. Now, dear, please follow me."  
  
"Um...Miss Nice Lady, I can't move. I'm stuck in the door."  
  
"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so?"  
  
Without another moment's hesitation, Mrs. Manson freed Shani from the door, and together they set off to the office of the school counsellor.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Alright, Shani, I'm going to hold up a card, and you are going to tell me what you see," Mrs. Manson explained breezily, reaching for a large cue card from the surface of the desk, with the outlines of a boy and a girl facing one another as though involved in lively conversation.  
  
Shani frowned very hard at the picture, leaned closer, and peered more searchingly. For five minutes, she repeated this process, and the silence in the small office began to grow uncomfortable. Finally, Shani sat back in her chair and stared at Mrs. Manson, eyes impossibly wide.  
  
"Bats," she whispered.  
  
"...Excuse me?"  
  
"I see bats..."  
  
"Shani, there are no bats in the picture."  
  
"Really?" She peered at the picture again, then laughed self-deprecatingly. "Oh! Yeah, you're right. It's two people TALKING about bats!"  
  
"I...see," Mrs. Manson said slowly, snatching up a small spiral notepad and jotting some notes down rapidly on it. "Dear, tell me about your family."  
  
"All of them?"  
  
"Well...your immediate family."  
  
"ALL of them?"  
  
"How many people are there in your immediate family?"  
  
"Forty-two."  
  
"I...think you must be mistaken, dear. Count again."  
  
Shani sat silent for a time, brow wrinkled, pondering this. Then she looked up.  
  
"Yeah, you're right. There are forty-five of us."  
  
"Forty-five! What kind of family are you from?"  
  
"Is...that unusual?"  
  
"Of course it's unusual! Forty-five of you, all living in the same house?!"  
  
"What?! No, we don't all live in the same house! Do you know how crowded that would be?"  
  
"Well, who do you live in a house with?"  
  
"I live with my older sister, my younger sister, and two of my cousins who are my age."  
  
Mrs. Manson blinked, a red light beginning to flash in her mind already.  
  
"No parents?"  
  
"Oh, our parents live just a house over with the children."  
  
"Well...why don't you live with them?"  
  
"Because they want to know that we can cope on our own. My older sister is only a year away from being given in marriage. When we turn fifteen, we start being trained to be good wives and warriors."  
  
"You're trained to be given away in marriage? Just what sort of family are you from?!"  
  
"That's how all our people act," Shani informed the woman, her tone and expression somewhat wounded.  
  
"And what people are these?"  
  
"Yadrians."  
  
"...Pardon me?"  
  
"The Yadrians of the nation of Yadri."  
  
"Ah. So...why are you coming to school here, if your people all live in Yadri?"  
  
"I was sent away from my homeland because I annoyed all the other cat- faeries. Someone had to come with me, because they don't trust me not to accidentally impale myself on a pencil while I'm here. So, my mother and father and little brother were sent along, too, so we could properly masquerade as a normal family...but I don't think I was supposed to tell you that," she concluded with a giggle.  
  
"Cat...faeries..."  
  
"Yeah! So, basically, I'm here on a doomed reconnaissance mission because I am the most expendable of the young females of my kind. They need the rest to mate with the men and produce strong warriors, but...none of them wanted me."  
  
"I...see," Mrs. Manson replied hesitantly, pencil furiously scratching. 'Low self-esteem; feels unloved even by her delusions. Remedial class necessary. Possible in-depth psychiatric help needed.' With a forced smile, the forced quality of which was completely lost on Shani who returned it radiantly, she spoke gently. "Now, Shani, I've gone over your responses to the psychological exam, and there's a certain extra class we'd like you to take."  
  
"A special class?!" Shani's eyes widened, the beginnings of a grin spreading over her face.  
  
"Y-yes, a...special class."  
  
"Hooray!"  
  
Mrs. Manson sighed. 'Definite in-depth psychiatric help needed,' she scrawled on the notepad.  
  
'Why do I get all the strange ones?' she demanded petulantly of the world in general.  
  
  
  
  
  
Timothy O'Neill flipped desperately through his book. Darnit, where had that marker gone?! He froze for a moment, appalled at the harsh language of his thoughts. He would have to make sure to do an extra fifteen minutes of meditations today to calm his mind and drive all these bad words out of it. At the moment, though, there were seven rather confused young people watching him, no doubt wondering why he wasn't going on with the lesson.  
  
"Esteem, a teen. They don't really rhyme, do they? The sounds don't quite...mesh. And that in fact is often the case when it comes to a teen, and esteem. The two just don't seem to go together. But we are here today to begin realizing your actuality."  
  
Immediately, a hand in the first row shot up.  
  
'Oh, no...maybe if I pretend I don't see her, she'll give up,' he thought, praying desperately that it might be true.  
  
He continued speaking, but alas, the hand didn't go away. It waved more emphatically. Stumbling slightly over his words, Mr. O'Neill continued doggedly on.  
  
The owner of the hand, however, was having none of this.  
  
"Excuse me," she called. Mr. O'Neill looked up at a girl of about sixteen garbed in a heavy green jacket, a mass of red-brown hair resting against her shoulders, peering at him through eyes covered by thickly rimmed glasses. "I want to know what 'realizing your actuality' means."  
  
"It means... look, just let me get through the part okay? And then there will be a video!" the rattled teacher promised enthusiastically.  
  
"Whatever it means, it sounds really pretty!" another voice chirped to his left.  
  
All eyes shifted to land on the curly-haired redheaded girl garbed in the traditional stereotypical outfit of a 'school-girl' with a duck-shaped backpack perched on one corner of her desk.  
  
"Why, thank-you," Mr. O'Neill said, voice nearly shaking with emotion at this sudden and unexpected confirmation, eyes growing slightly shiny. "Yes, the realization of one's actuality is a lovely, beautiful thing, um...what was your name?"  
  
"Shani," she replied with a typically huge grin.  
  
Daria rolled her eyes slightly. Great. Well, the teacher and this bubblehead deserved each other.  
  
"But, what does it mean?" she pressed.  
  
"Who cares what it means, if it sounds pretty?" a voice demanded sarcastically from behind her.  
  
Daria turned, one eyebrow raised. The source of the voice seemed to be a girl of her own age, though taller, with short black hair that Daria would have guessed she had cut herself. With no mirror. Something within Daria nodded her approval.  
  
"If I'm gonna be stuck here listening to it, I care," she informed the young woman.  
  
"He doesn't know what it means," the dark-haired girl muttered, gesturing to Mr. O'Neill, who had, confidence bolstered by the praise of the speech in the book, continued. "He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice."  
  
"How am I supposed to follow him if I don't know what he's talking about?" Daria protested.  
  
"I can fill you in later. I've taken this class six times," the girl informed her with an ironic smirk.  
  
With a barely perceptible smile and a slightly more perceptible nod, Daria turned back to the front, wondering exactly what had just happened. A peer had just...reached out to her? How very strange. Ulterior motive, perhaps? Ah, well, that would remain to be seen...  
  
  
  
  
  
"So, tell me, Jane," Daria began as the two girls trudged over the sun- warmed pavement towards Jane's home. "How does the teaching staff think that a class like that is going to improve a person's self-esteem?"  
  
"The ways of The Faculty are not known to me," Jane replied dryly. "I guess Mr. O'Neill's stunningly high self-esteem is supposed to rub off on us."  
  
"And I'm from another planet," Daria smirked.  
  
"You, too?!" a rather insanely enthusiastic voice gasped from behind them.  
  
Exchanging a pained glance, Daria and Jane slowly turned to behold Shani bounding down the sidewalk toward them, her duck backpack carefully cradled in one arm, the other waving to them frantically.  
  
"I'm sorry," she began, grinning sheepishly. "I couldn't help but overhear. You said you're from another planet? That's a really crazy coincidence, because I am, too! Where are you from?"  
  
"Highland," Daria replied slowly, somewhat at a loss.  
  
Shani frowned.  
  
"Is that near the Crab Nebula?"  
  
"No, it's about a hundred and fifty miles from here," Jane cut in as she and Daria simultaneously turned away and started down the sidewalk again.  
  
To their great confusion and annoyance, Shani stayed right with them.  
  
"Y'know, if we're in the same special class, we should be friends!" the duck-bearing redhead suggested seriously.  
  
"What a great idea," Daria said. "Why don't you go home, and we'll call you later."  
  
"Really?! Really and truly?!"  
  
"Really," Daria replied.  
  
"And truly," Jane added.  
  
"Yaay!" Shani chirped, leaping into the air and flashing a two-fingered victory sign to the world at large.  
  
Unfortunately, young Shani had never learned the secret to landing this sort of a move properly, and as such, crashed painfully down onto the pavement.  
  
"...Ow..." she whimpered, then bounced to her feet and took off, heedless of the bleeding scrapes on her knees, calling over her shoulder, "so, talk to you both later, then!"  
  
"That...was too easy," Jane noted, frowning. "There's gotta be a catch."  
  
"Don't fight it, Lane," Daria shrugged.  
  
The dark-haired girl nodded, and they continued on.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, some hundred yards down the sidewalk, Shani stopped abruptly.  
  
"How are they going to call me, if they don't have my phone number?"  
  
  
  
"Hey, whaddaya know?" Jane drawled the next afternoon, raising an eyebrow at the grinning mass of red curls decked out in a traditional 'school-girl' outfit. "They've thrown another poor soul into our personal hell. Wait a second. That's the crazy girl from the self-esteem class."  
  
"Hmm...so it is," Daria agreed with a quick glance at the girl. "So, pizza after this?"  
  
"Sick Sad World, and THEN pizza," Jane corrected as they both took their seats in the front and centre of the class.  
  
"Wow..." Shani breathed, absently petting Mr. Perkins. "They're so...not- shallow! Mr. Perkins! Do you really think these are the two girls that I'm going to make friends with?!"  
  
"They might be," Mr. Perkins replied in her mind, with a roguish wink that also existed only in her mind. "Go on; talk to 'em. Ya have to apologize for not givin' 'em your number anyway, right?"  
  
"O-kay!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, bouncing from her seat.  
  
  
  
"Um..." Daria was meanwhile muttering to Jane, "is that girl talking to her backpack?"  
  
"Wonderful," Jane sighed. "Another Brittany."  
  
"Is Brittany in the habit of talking to inanimate objects?"  
  
"You met Kevin, didn't you?"  
  
"Oh, God, not again. She's coming over here."  
  
With a quick glance over her shoulder, Jane confirmed that this was so.  
  
"Act like you aren't paying attention," she advised ironically.  
  
Daria smirked.  
  
"Act, you say?"  
  
"Hi!" the little curly-headed duck-toting lass chirped as she slid into the seat directly behind them.  
  
"Is this going to involve staying awake?" Daria asked, not turning from her notebook.  
  
"Well...I could talk to you through a dream, but that might be weird if we just met yesterday," Shani replied with a frown.  
  
Jane turned.  
  
"Uh...right. Look, kid, it's not that we don't like you, but..."  
  
"Yeah, it is," Daria cut in.  
  
Jane pondered this for a moment. Then...  
  
"Yeah, you're right, it is."  
  
Shani frowned.  
  
"Are you trying to...tell me something?"  
  
"Yes, and it is only this: go away."  
  
"No, no, I meant on a mind-link level," Shani said absently, chewing the corner of her lip in deep concentration. Then she gasped. "You are deeply troubled. The afflictions given to you by your heritage may one day rise up to destroy you. You must change your destructive habits, much like those of your ancestors before you, or horrible things will happen to you and all those you know."  
  
"That's very good," Daria congratulated her tonelessly. "Now let me try. A horrible fate is going to befall you if you don't go away within the next ten seconds."  
  
Shani's eyes widened, and she gasped again.  
  
"Really?! Thank-you, Miss Glasses-Girl! You may have just saved my life!"  
  
With that, she slid from the desk in front of Daria's and bounced back to her own.  
  
Seconds later, a redheaded boy, his face sprinkled with freckles and wreathed in a cheesy grin that seemed wider than his cheeks should have been able to contain strode through the door. Immediately catching sight of Daria, he made his way to the two desks in the front and centre of the room.  
  
"Hello there, my pet. You're...new in Lawndale, aren't you?"  
  
"Daria, you didn't tell me you were psychic," Jane said mock-reproachfully.  
  
"Ooh...psychic," the redhead drawled, his eyebrows lifting. "Then of course you see that your future holds and evening of dinner and dancing with the one and only Charles Ruttheimer III? Tell me, doll, what happens after that?"  
  
"A satellite sent up by the Russians lands on you and crushes you to death," Daria replied immediately.  
  
"Feisty!" Charles, as Daria knew him by this point, exclaimed, eyebrows waggling lecherously.  
  
"Hey, Upchuck," Jane began thoughtfully. "I think I'm having a psychic flash, too."  
  
"Oh, do tell, kitten," Upchuck implored.  
  
"It involves that girl over there," Jane informed him, pointing to Shani, who was gazing at the scene in confusion.  
  
"Rrrrrrrreally," he drawled, eyeing the fairly decent amount of leg exposed by the little pleated plaid skirt Shani wore. "I do love a schoolgirl..."  
  
"Or anything else that moves," Jane added.  
  
But Upchuck didn't hear this, as he had already started over to the desk in the corner.  
  
"I've gotta hand it to you, Lane," Daria began with a small smile as Upchuck flashed Shani a ridiculously cheesy lecherous grin, and she returned it with a ridiculously cheesy completely non-lecherous one, "you're a master time efficiency expert."  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"To get rid of two excruciatingly annoying problems at once?"  
  
"Thanks. I learned it from Sesame Street."  
  
At this, Daria looked nearly surprised.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, when I was four, this kid decided that I was his best friend. He'd come over everyday, whether I invited him or not. But the only thing he ever wanted to do was watch Sesame Street, which wouldn't have been so bad, but he wanted me to watch it with him. So one day, I put my foot through the TV. Mom was a little annoyed, and Penny was furious, but I didn't have to watch Sesame Street, and the kid went home."  
  
"What a touching childhood memory."  
  
"Now it's your turn."  
  
Daria thought carefully.  
  
"One time, when I was four, I shut Quinn up with a roll of duct tape."  
  
"I feel choked up. Does anyone have a tissue?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
  
  
  
  
End Notes: Well, that was fun! For me, at any rate. :o)  
  
Oh, and I have been completely cheap and allowed Upchuck to share a class with Daria and Jane, as well as letting him meet Daria before the second episode, simply for the sake of the cheap joke. I'm good at those! :o) Anyway, I hope no one minds this slight tweaking of 'Daria' reality.  
  
Anyway, thanks for reading thus far! The feedback's been really great.  
  
[Rhianwen waves cheerily, then bounces away] 


	2. Esteemsters, Second Bit

Esteemers - II  
  
  
  
Shani heaved a long, melancholy sigh, hugging Mr. Perkins and resting her chin on the top of his comfortingly soft head as she leaned back in her desk, waiting patiently for her 'special class' to begin. Really, there were times when being a 'keener' had its drawbacks. Namely, when one found oneself waiting half an hour for a class to begin.  
  
'Maybe leaving my last class early just to make REALLY sure I'd be on time wasn't such a good idea,' she thought, frowning slightly. To be sure, Mr. Perkins hadn't approved of this at all. He had accepted it grudgingly once she had explained her reasoning to him, but had exhorted her not to make it a habit.  
  
Mr. O'Neill faintly heard this heavy sigh through the haze of his own thoughts. Really, the essay that this new student, this Daria Morgendorffer had handed in was astounding! It showed remarkable clarity of thought, and there was a certain...tang to it. No teacher with this girl in his - or her - class would ever find her writing dull! And as for the basic conventions of writing, she seemed to be head and shoulders above any student that he, Mr. O'Neill, had taught in years!  
  
Cuddling her duck more tightly, Shani heaved another sigh.  
  
Mr. O'Neill looked up briefly.  
  
"Oh, hello...er...um..."  
  
"Shani," she replied, gazing sadly at him and trying to smile. "Shani May."  
  
"Yes, Shani. That's right," the instructor said, shooting her a warm smile before turning back to his grading.  
  
Shani frowned. This was rather unexpected...  
  
"Um...Mr. Nice Teacher Man," she ventured timidly, "can I talk to you?"  
  
Mr. O'Neill dropped the sheet of paper that he had been holding, his attention suddenly and completely captured by the young lass in the front row. A student was reaching out to him! This was his golden opportunity to truly make a difference in the life of a young person! This, in short, was the kind of thing that Timothy O'Neill lived for.  
  
"Of course, Sandra," he said gently.  
  
"It's Shani," she corrected.  
  
"Oh! Shani! Of course! I haven't caused you lasting emotional damage by forgetting your name, have I, Shani?"  
  
"No, Mr. Nice Teacher Man," she assured him, her wide grin finally returning.  
  
"Oh, wonderful," Mr. O'Neill beamed. "Now, why don't you come sit beside me here and tell me what the problem is?" He patted the seat of a chair pulled up beside his desk.  
  
"Well...it's just that...I'm new here," Shani began hesitantly once she had settled herself in the chair.  
  
"Yes, starting at a new school is always a difficult period of adjustment," Mr. O'Neill agreed sympathetically. "It can make you feel like a feather caught up in a rough wind, can't it? Tossed about, never sure which way you're going next..."  
  
"Um...okay. Anyway, I made a friend yesterday - his name's Charles, and he's really nice, even though he always looks at my legs when he's talking to me - I think he was staring at my Band-Aids," she concluded glumly, gesturing to the scrapes on her knees covered by any number of Smurf- patterned bandages. "And a lot of the other kids seem to be really nice. But...there are two special girls that I met. Mr. Perkins agrees with me that they're really neat, and that I should be their friend. But...somehow, I get this odd feeling that they don't want me around!"  
  
Mr. O'Neill looked aghast, but recovered quickly.  
  
"Well, Shani, you know that not everybody will like everybody just like that. Just give them a chance to get to know you."  
  
"O-kay!" she chirped, bouncing from the chair and back to her desk and the abandoned Mr. Perkins.  
  
"Er...Shani...who are these girls?" Mr. O'Neill asked, frowning slightly.  
  
"Oh...their names are Daria and Jane...I think," she replied, putting a hand to her chin in consideration.  
  
"Daria...is she the girl with all the earrings?" he asked slowly, the fantastic essay of ten minutes ago by that same Daria already forgotten.  
  
"I think so," Shani confirmed with a nod. Then her eyes grew shiny in adoration, and she clasped her hands under her chin. "She's so cool and non- conforming-like!"  
  
Mr. O'Neill smiled indulgently.  
  
"Of course she is. But remember, Shani, without friends, it doesn't matter HOW 'cool' you are."  
  
"That's what Mr. Perkins says!"  
  
"Oh? Is Mr. Perkins a former writing mentor, perhaps? He sounds like a wise man."  
  
Shani shook her head.  
  
"No, Mr. Perkins isn't my WRITING mentor, exactly. He's...well, why don't you say hello?"  
  
Mr. O'Neill looked somewhat confused.  
  
"I suppose so, Shani, but how?"  
  
Shani leapt once again from her desk and snatched up her duck backpack, shoving it under the startled teacher's nose.  
  
"This is Mr. Perkins!"  
  
Had the concept of a sweatdrop been applicable within the universe of Daria, Mr. O'Neill would certainly have put it to good use at this.  
  
"Er...you have a very rich imagination, Shani, and that's good to see. But just remember to keep it in check, or you might forget what you've imagined, and what is actually real."  
  
Shani frowned, then laughed.  
  
"You're funny!"  
  
Then she turned and bounced back to her desk, and all was silent in the classroom for the next several minutes, until a stream of young people poured into the classroom. As there were only seven of them, it wasn't much of a stream, but it is, after all, the thought that counts.  
  
Mr. O'Neill bid everyone a warm welcome in his typically soothing tone, and picked up his book.  
  
And with that, another self-esteem class was underway.  
  
  
  
Jane smothered a snicker as she leaned over slightly and caught a glimpse of a rough sketch filling one page of Daria's notebook below the point where her notes had trailed off. It was a rather accurate depiction of their esteemed instructor with a gigantic block of cheese for a head. Nudging her new friend's elbow carefully, Jane motioned for Daria to hand her the notebook. With a somewhat bemused expression, Daria complied, and after a brief moment of sketching, Jane returned the drawing with a few editions.  
  
Daria bit back a laugh at the sight of a grotesque, but incredibly skilfully done rat munching away at the corner of the figure's head, and the dog releasing its water on the figure's shoe. She glanced at Jane, who smiled wickedly.  
  
Then, as she felt a light tap on her shoulder, Daria turned once it seemed that Mr. O'Neill was too absorbed in his lecture to notice. She immediately wished she hadn't, as Shani handed her a sheet of paper, a hopeful grin stretched out across her face. Reluctantly, Daria took it and turned back around.  
  
Curious, Jane leaned over to get a peek, and both girls inwardly rolled their eyes at a very, very crude doodle of a figure that was unmistakably Shani, two more who could arguably have posed for them, and a little creature that looked something like a duck, frolicking together.  
  
Daria and Jane both turned to glare at Shani, the force of these glares not at all lessened by the other girl's expression of shiny eyes and clasped hands, her smile still firmly in place.  
  
It was at this unlucky juncture that Mr. O'Neill looked up from his speech.  
  
"Now, girls," he began in what he considered to be a stern voice, "it's very nice to see that you're becoming friends, but this is a very important lesson, and so I must insist that you wait to do your 'hanging out' after the class."  
  
"Or longer," Daria added.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Nice Teacher Man," Shani whimpered contritely. "I just wanted to show them my drawing! I spent all lunch-hour on it!"  
  
"Oh, really? Well, an artistic endeavour of any kind is a good one. Would you mind if I took a quick peek?"  
  
"Nope!" Shani beamed.  
  
Cradling her head in one hand in utter despair at this severely depressing turn of events, Daria handed over the drawing.  
  
Mr. O'Neill immediately broke out in a fond smile.  
  
"I must say, Shani, I love the positive message of friendship and togetherness!"  
  
"Thank-you, Mr. Nice Teacher Man!"  
  
"We've GOT to get out of this class," Daria muttered to Jane.  
  
Jane made a face.  
  
"I'm beginning to agree with you."  
  
Meanwhile, Mr. O'Neill had taken up his clipboard and pressed doggedly on.  
  
"Alright, where were we? Oh, yes. So, what are we talking about when we talk about ourselves? Anyone?  
  
A boy in the back of the room raised his hand tentatively.  
  
"Um...we're...talking about us?"  
  
"Excellent!" Mr. O'Neill gushed.  
  
"Wow," Shani sighed. "He's so smart!"  
  
The boy blushed and shrank back inside his shirt.  
  
Mr. O'Neill continued.  
  
"When we're talking about ourselves, we're talking about us! Now guys, I've got a little challenge for you. Today we talked about turning your daydreams into reality. Tonight, I want you to go home and do just that. What do you say? Um..." He scanned the crowd for a likely-looking victim, his gaze finally coming to rest on Daria. "You. What's a daydream that you would like to see come true?"  
  
Daria resisted the urge to grit her teeth. Hadn't she suffered enough in this class today? Still, if the bubble-headed teacher wanted an answer, he was going to get one.  
  
"Well, I guess I'd like my whole family to do something together."  
  
"Excellent!" Mr. O'Neill gushed again, his eyes growing somewhat shiny.  
  
"Something that'll really make them suffer," she added, a tiny smile creeping over her face.   
  
Mr. O'Neill floundered slightly.  
  
"Um...well, it's healthy to have these feelings." He flipped frantically through his book. "I think." Then he raised his head and smiled brightly at the class. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow. Class dismissed!"  
  
"Mr. Perkins, what do you think she meant by that?" Shani asked her backpack, confused.  
  
"I dunno, Shani," Mr. Perkins replied with a confused frown that only she could see. "Maybe this girl isn't the best influence for you, after all. Maybe you should talk to that nice redheaded boy again."  
  
"B-but Mr. Perkins," Shani exclaimed, aghast. "I'm sure she's not a mean person! She was so nice to me yesterday!"  
  
"Well, then just keep on tryin', kiddo," Mr. Perkins suggested with a shrug and a grin.  
  
Shani pumped her fist triumphantly.  
  
"You bet I will!"  
  
  
  
Daria smirked as Quinn buried her face in her hands in utter humiliation and let out a groan of pain.  
  
'What if someone SEES me here,' her lovely redheaded sister had demanded furiously, hands on her hips when Helen Morgendorffer had announced, fighting back a pained grimace, that they would be dining at Pizza Forest that night in accordance with Daria's wishes.  
  
Daria had remarked to this that if any of Quinn's new friends managed to see her at Pizza Forest, there were bigger problems with these new friends than their thinking ill of her. This, of course, had earned no response, save an angry glare.  
  
'I love you too, sis,' she reflected smugly, reflecting that this served nicely as revenge on Quinn for spreading it about that she was an only child.  
  
"Oh, NO!" Quinn shrieked. "Those big animals are headed this way!"  
  
"Don't look them in the eye," Daria advised calmly. "Animals can sense fear. If you make eye contact, they might maul you." Then she paused. "On second thought, DO make eye contact. Right now."  
  
"You are such a GEEK!" Quinn huffed as the polyester-clad Pizza Forest employees gathered around their table and began to sing.  
  
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream," the carolled ecstatically.  
  
"Now you join in!" the giant bunny urged Quinn.  
  
"Can I join in?!" a voice asked expectantly from outside of the ring of animals.  
  
Daria froze in horror. That...that voice! It couldn't be who she thought it was!  
  
Yes, Daria, it could be. The row of animals parted slightly, and Shani emerged, wedged firmly between a horsie and moo-cow.  
  
"Hi, Daria! I thought it was you!"  
  
"Is this a new friend of yours, Daria?" Helen asked, smiling fondly at her eldest daughter. To be sure, this young lady didn't look like the most intelligent of people, but she, Helen, would have been delighted nonetheless to learn that Daria had actually reached out to a fellow classmate. Therefore, she was rather crestfallen when...  
  
"No," Daria replied flatly, now mimicking Quinn and hiding her face in her hands.  
  
"Not YET," Shani corrected. "But I'm sure that, in time, we'll be great pals!"  
  
"Fortunately, that won't happen until after the Apocalypse," Daria muttered, then sat up straighter and glared at Shani, still clad in her little pleated plaid skirt, white blouse, sweater-vest, knee-socks, and Mary Janes, with Mr. Perkins dangling at her side. "What are you DOING here, anyway?"  
  
"Oh! Well, Mom and Dad were so proud of me for getting into our special class, that they wanted to take me out for supper somewhere. I thought this place looked fun! And boy, was I right!" she concluded, her grin widening, if such a thing were possible.  
  
"Of course," Daria agreed flatly. "When was the last time you had a group of animals serenade you while you were eating pizza?"  
  
"Well, except for the pizza part, a couple weeks ago," Shani replied seriously. "I've never had pizza before. Usually, it's sardines and vanilla ice cream. Well, I gotta go before my little brother thinks the animals are what we're supposed to be eating. We get thrown out of more amusement parks that way," she concluded absently, turning and starting away from the table.  
  
"Well!" Helen began brightly, rather at a loss. "She seems very...lively."  
  
Daria rolled her eyes and pulled another slice of pepperoni pizza from the tray in the center of the table.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
  
  
  
  
"So, she actually showed up at Pizza Forest?" Jane asked, shaking her head in disbelief as she leaned against the headboard of her bed, the scratching of pencil against paper drifting down toward the other girl, who was seated at the edge of Jane's bed, not quite comfortable enough with the room yet to relax.  
  
"Uh-huh," Daria confirmed glumly. "Talk about a perfect revenge shot to hell."  
  
"Hey, don't be so pessimistic," Jane urged. "Your sister still suffered, right?"  
  
Daria shrugged grudgingly.  
  
"I guess. But the point was for only my family to suffer, while I watched in amused satisfaction. I wasn't supposed to suffer with them."  
  
"These things happen," Jane said easily. "There'll be other revenges."  
  
"I know," Daria grumbled. "But we've still gotta get out of that class."  
  
"I don't know, Daria. What'll we do with our afternoons if we're not wasting them listening to Mr. O'Neill?"  
  
Daria gestured toward the television, where a youth, his face riddled with acne, was describing for a fascinated Sick Sad World announcer his experience aboard an alien ship.  
  
"UFO conventions," she replied with a casual shrug, as though there could be no question about it.  
  
"Now, why didn't I think of that?" Jane demanded of no one in particular.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I can't believe people in this town!" Violet May was currently ranting, cuddling her four-year old son, Daly May protectively as the family station wagon shot home through the darkening night.  
  
"Well, y'know, Mommy, Daly did try to eat the doggie," Shani reminded her mother diplomatically. "They kinda look down on that here."  
  
"He's only a child! How on earth was he supposed to know?" the incensed woman demanded.  
  
"Calm down, Violet," Edward May urged, turning to his wife and patting her arm sympathetically, heedless of the fact that the vehicle was still moving, now with no one steering it.  
  
"M-mommy," Daly sniffled, "am I a little hellion?"  
  
"Of course not, love," Violet assured him too fervently.  
  
"I'm sorry, Daly!" Shani sobbed, launching herself over the seat to hug her little brother tightly. "Forgive me?"  
  
"'Course, big sister!" Daly sobbed back, inadvertently digging his heel into his mother's side in effort to hug Shani back more effectively.  
  
"How sweet," Edward and Violet sighed together, eyes growing misty as they watched this emotional reconciliation between their children.  
  
  
  
"Yaaaaaaagh!" a certain bald young man with a good deal of metal in his face howled as the station wagon bounced up over the curb, and still showed no signs of stopping. He leapt out of the way and tried to tuck into a forward roll, which certainly would have made for a very smooth, elegant getaway, if not for the fact that young Max had no idea how to execute such a manoeuvre, and ended up simply hitting his head on the concrete. However, as he peeled himself off of the sidewalk and sat up dizzily, rubbing his head, he reflected that really, the owners of the station wagon had it worse.  
  
The vehicle still didn't stop once on the sidewalk, and instead sailed merrily over that same sidewalk and onto a nearby house's front lawn. Still, though, it didn't stop. It hurtled over the lawn and crashed headlong into the miniature cast iron deer plonked down at a random spot in the grass.  
  
"Not much of a loss," Max noted, eyeing the wreckage of a very ugly lawn ornament.  
  
At this point, he watched in fascination as four people emerged from the now-smoking station wagon.  
  
First was a middle-aged man, stoutish of build, and well on his way to sporting the same hairstyle as Max, but much less voluntarily.  
  
Next came a middle-aged woman, also rather stoutish, her curly red hair cropped close to her head, and her ample form swathed in a brightly coloured flowered dress.  
  
The next to emerge from the car was a little boy, who bounced energetically through the window.  
  
"Dat was neat! C'n we do it again?!" he asked the two adults, presumably his parents.  
  
"No, Daly," the woman replied sternly, picking him up.  
  
The last person to emerge from the vehicle made Max look twice, if only because he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a girl of high-school age in such a stereotyped schoolgirl outfit. This strange specimen of teenage-girl-hood bounced from the car, also from the involuntarily open passenger-side window. Naturally, as one might expect, the edge of her skirt caught on a shard of glass, which resulted in the sound of tearing cloth, and quite an eyeful for the young man watching from the sidewalk.  
  
"So, what'd we hit, Daddy?" she asked the man.  
  
"I...can't quite tell. I think it might have been a lawn ornament," the man laughed. "Boy, is my face red!"  
  
"Actually," the girl corrected, peering searchingly at the man, "it's kinda pinkish."  
  
Max snickered. This drew the attention of the happy little family, now all laughing sheepishly over their destruction of someone else's property.  
  
"Oh, geez! Did we hit you, too?" the man asked, hurrying toward Max.  
  
"No, no, I'm fine," Max assured him before turning to the girl, who had procured from somewhere a backpack that looked something like a duck. "Thanks to my lightning-quick reflexes, I dodged in time. Not that being hit by a car coulda hurt me!"  
  
"Oh," the man nodded. "Okay."  
  
And with that, the family turned and wandered back to their vehicle, leaving behind them a rather taken aback Max.  
  
"What a bunch of weirdoes," he commented to himself sadly before turning and continuing down the street.  
  
  
  
  
  
End Notes: Hi! [Waves cheerfully] 


End file.
